


when the nights are long

by aronnaxs



Series: Terror Kink Meme Prompt Fills [1]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: (in the fantasy), Angst, Fantasizing, Guilt, M/M, Masturbation, Terror Kink Meme, Threesome - M/M/M, idk if that’s a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25617847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aronnaxs/pseuds/aronnaxs
Summary: After breaking it off with Cornelius, Billy struggles to find his replacement.[Fill for a prompt on the terror kink meme]
Relationships: William Gibson/Cornelius Hickey, William Gibson/Others, William Gibson/Sgt Solomon Tozer
Series: Terror Kink Meme Prompt Fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856944
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	when the nights are long

**Author's Note:**

> so I was in love with this prompt on the kink meme: https://terrorkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/396.html?thread=286604#cmt286604 and, considering I’ve fallen into a Billy Gibson angst, Cornelius/Billy rabbit hole, I thought I’d try my hand at it. 
> 
> saying that, there are some super good prompts unfilled on that kink meme which I may unearth and fill 
> 
> (and yes I’m using ye banished privateers song lyrics as my title ssh)

Billy could have wept. He twisted and turned upon the cot - each time risking a creak of the wooden frame - yet no position gave him what he wanted. He was already up to two fingers, jabbed inside of himself, but they were affording him no pleasure or relief, not as they should.

Face angled into the rough pillow so he could not see the cloth partition (so thin, so close to getting caught if he did not finish this), he hitched up a thigh and laid pressure against his prick. It had stirred, flagged, stirred and flagged again, giving up on his efforts. Arctic ice or no, he was burning with a sick, clammy heat. Sweat clung to his legs, half-bare where he had tugged his breeches open. He paused to catch his breath, and felt it sticking to the sheets. A flare of fussy stewardship brewed at that, before he pushed it down again in frustration.

He had sunk into his role on Terror to ignore the dawning reality of the trouble they were in. It was easier that way. But it was just patchwork - and no man could banish the gathering dread. Billy just wished for one night to forget it. 

And yet that self-same desire for his role had driven away the one thing capable of giving him relief. No, he thought, he could not think of Cornelius. It would be like a beaten dog dragging itself back to its owner.

Had there been anyone before Cornelius? Billy thought as he withdrew and angled in again. There had been some - fleeting tussles aboard various ships, a helpful hand in the shadows. But Cornelius had been the only one to make him believe this was more than a necessity - the only one to make him believe his preference did not only come from a lack of options. He was a man unashamed of his desires. Good god, to be desired. 

Billy’s prick jumped at the thought of Cornelius. The way he had held him upon the cot, a firm arm over his chest, pressing him back into his lithe little form as his hand slid over him. He had had rough palms, such long, nimble fingers, a practised manner of twisting his wrist that stoppered Billy’s breath. Sometimes, Cornelius had only watched Billy tug himself off - but his eager eyes and the whispered encouragements were still enough to have Billy sobbing into his shirt, coming so hard he had had to stifle himself.

Cornelius’ voice was still there. It was like a termite in his ear. “I’m so proud of you, love,” he would murmur, “you’re so good to me, that’s it, come on, sweet thing, nearly there, aren’t you?”

He forced himself to retreat from those thoughts. He was not so foolish as to pine after a man who had treated him as his Cornelius had. He told himself that again and again as he shifted his fingers, loosened his other hand to play at the head of his prick. Tight heat rose, but did not stick. 

There were others aboard the ships. His preference was not such a rarity, although the reactions men took ranged from intense shame and repression to a need not to carry it ashore to a dabbling as if it were a luxuriant drug to only be sipped from few and far between.

Mr. Bridgens and Mr. Peglar? No, he could not think of them when they were so devoted to one another. 

Captain Fitzjames? Billy had overstepped himself there. The Erebus captain was preened and strikingly handsome, but to even think of him in such a situation seemed a blasphemy. By any means, word had passed of his eyes for Captain Crozier - a bond Billy could never be the judge of.

Lieutenant Little? It was not unheard of for officers to use their stewards as a means of self-relief. But such a thing was either muddied by shame, or by an officer overconfident of his role. No matter how hard Billy tried to force the image of Lieutenant Little - now-permanently rosy cheeks reddening further as Billy went to his knees, gloved hands petting his hair - it would not satisfy. Little seemed not to wish for his position; he would not abuse it so.

Mr. Collins? Such a bulk of a man - powerful legs, powerful arms, powerful chest - could crush him. A not entirely unappealing thought. Billy felt a brief throb of arousal as he imagined being caught up in his embrace, pressed against his furred chest. His large fingers would feel good, his rumoured impressive girth even more. But a man like him would not glance at Billy more than once, if that - Mr. Collins could be as timid as a maiden for all his stature.

Sergeant Tozer? For some reason, Billy could only picture him angry. Anything that passed between them would not be soft. A rough tumble, over in a bare few minutes, bruises cut into his hips, his head aching with short, sharp blasts of pleasure. Billy pressed his fingers in harder to match the fantasy, turned his hot cheek into the pillow. It was almost spite to think of the marine sergeant; he had seen Cornelius’ gaze upon him more than once, and Billy could not entirely blame him. 

Cornelius. 

He was suddenly with them. Billy would be content between the two - so he told himself. He rocked his hips into his fist, tight lust pushing through his frustration, as Cornelius and Tozer’s phantom hands ran over him. Tozer would take him first, wracking cries out of an exposed and ashamed throat, then Cornelius would have his turn, finding that spot like a target at every thrust, as he always did, making Billy wilt and tremble. 

Billy stifled a cry in the sheets, forcing his pleasure to stay. No longer did he care about how to get there - strung out, desperate to come, too long on the edge. He kept on at his prostate, remembering how Cornelius had brought him over just on that fierce rapture before - no hand on his prick, only inside, rubbing and rubbing until there were tears on his cheeks. There they were again, hot and insistent - frustration and shame that he could think of no other but Cornelius. 

Cornelius with his head between his legs, whiskers scouring his shaking thighs. Cornelius with his hand over his mouth as he took him with achingly slow thrusts. Cornelius petting his hair affectionately as he let him swallow him down. And the fantasy of them - away from the ice, away from the need to be so silent - in a proper bed, where Cornelius could possess him again and again.

When he came, there was relief for a moment. He gritted his teeth, turned his face into the pillow, as it turned to agony. He shuddered and gasped, driving himself away and onto its sharp point. It ripped through him, caustic with humiliation, and then was gone. 

He wondered why he had been so desperate to get there.

For a while, he lay, regaining his breath. Numbness gave way to shame, and he found himself glancing at the thin partition. The whines and creaks of a ship trapped in ice never ceased. 

He cleaned off, buttoned up again, straightened his shirt and donned his waistcoat. As he sat, preparing to return to the world, the dull ache started once more, and he still felt empty.


End file.
